


The King of the Woods

by Bartkartoffeln



Series: One Shots And Other Shenanigans In The Zeldaverse [6]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Hunt, Poetry, poem, woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 14:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7467063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bartkartoffeln/pseuds/Bartkartoffeln
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This poem's made for Zelgan Week<br/>come take a look and don't be meek.<br/>Behold the shining maiden fair, <br/>luring a King from his dark lair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King of the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> This has been written for Zelgan Week 2016, prompt 'The Hunt'

The maiden ran through forest near  
Beside her, lovely peaceful deer.  
She jumped a stream, the feet so light  
Her silver laugh like day so bright.

Her beauty known in all the lands,  
With hair made all of golden strands.  
Her skin so silken pale and pure,  
Not only deer were quite allured.

 The laughter died as shadows moved,  
Her eyes beheld a monster, hoofed.  
With tusks like spears, and yellow-eyed,  
The deer it reared and then it shied. 

The maiden with the sapphire gaze,  
Looked at the mane of red like blaze.  
Huge was the boar, and hot its breath,  
And where it roamed there followed death. 

She turned in fear and fled from there,  
The stream, wet feet, she didn’t care.  
The monster gave a frightful growl,  
Took up the hunt, was on the prowl. 

She jumped and dodged, rock, tree and stone  
To find a place where sunlight shone.  
Behind her stomped with power, wrath  
The boar and plowed a wicked path. 

Her legs gave out, she fell to ground,  
Her throat giving a desperate sound.  
Too late, all lost, here she would die.  
The beast was on her fast and sly.

It pawed the grass beside her shape,  
Slick drivel dripping on her nape.  
“I win. By rights you now are mine.  
Embrace again your old design.” 

The maiden felt her body change,  
An odd remembrance in her veins.  
‘Yes, this is how it must be.  
I am not caught, no, I am free.’

A doe of silvery golden form,  
Rose from the ground the boar had torn.  
The beast let out a rumbling growl,  
The doe bowed thankful to the scowl. 

It rubbed its head against one tusk,  
Inhaling long forgotten musk.  
The answer was a loving grunt,  
A peaceful end to this cursed hunt.


End file.
